


Still the Best

by Cdelphiki



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Adopted Sibling Relationship, Angst, Brotherly Bonding, Brotherly Love, Dick and Dami Week 2019, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-12-27 03:52:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18296282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cdelphiki/pseuds/Cdelphiki
Summary: Collection of Dick & Damian week fics.1: After a fight with Bruce, Damian misunderstands what Robin being "grounded" means and runs to Dick for comfort.2: Damian is outraged by what one of the local gossip magazines has cooked up.  Dick just finds it hilarious.3: Damian is exposed to Fear Toxin for the first time, and Dick learns quite a bit about Damian's actual fears.





	1. Dynamic Duo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a fight with Bruce, Damian misunderstands what Robin being "grounded" means and runs to Dick for comfort.

Dick glared up at the ceiling as the sound of his door’s knocker reverberated around the room, disrupting the nice silence he’d been enjoying up until thirty seconds ago.

It was 10 am, and Dick was getting some much needed _sleep_ before his shift at work in a few hours. Even if he’d accidentally fallen asleep on the couch, that sleep had been blissfully peaceful. Until someone started banging at the door.

Who the heck used knockers, anyway?

Just because a door that was probably 100 years old _had_ a knocker didn’t mean someone had to _use_ it. Just knock like a regular person.

Stupid old apartment, Dick thought, as he dragged himself across the living room to the front door. Looking out the peephole just made him close his eyes and rest his head against the door in utter defeat. Because he was definitely not getting another wink of sleep. Not a second.

Undoing the various deadbolts and the chain, Dick swung open the door and looked down at the little boy standing in the hall. At the kid carrying a suitcase and his sword.

Right out in public.

In Bludhaven.

With no Bruce in sight.

“Uh, Damian?” Dick said, blinking at the way Damian just glared at him.

“Richard,” he said, pushing his way past and into the apartment and dropping his bag on the floor.

Dick sighed and shut the door before asking,“What are you doing here?”

Damian hesitated, looking around the apartment. Like he was searching for something. A reason, perhaps? Because he better have a freaking good one for traveling all the way from Gotham, likely without Bruce’s permission or even knowledge, _at eleven years old._ With his freaking sword.

“Father has made it clear he has no use for me.”

That made Dick blink. And blink. And then close his eyes and run his hand through his hair.

Damn Bruce.

Leave it to him to screw _everything_ up.

Bruce had been back for less than a month. Dick moved back to Bludhaven to give him the space he needed to find his place with Damian, so they could settle into a groove without Damian constantly deferring to Dick, allowing his previous authority to overrule Bruce.

And of course Bruce went and screwed it up, just that quickly.

There was no chance Dick was getting back to sleep today.

“What makes you say that?” he asked, already knowing whatever Damian was about to say was going to be further aggravating.

 _Dammit,_ Bruce.

“He fired me,” Damian said crisply.

Right. Of course he did.

Dick sighed and locked his door so he could go fall onto his couch in defeat. Because he and Bruce had talked about this. Damian was Robin, and that wasn’t changing. It wasn’t Bruce’s name to give out. Dick gave Damian the name and that was that.

“So you came here,” Dick said exhaustedly, rubbing at his face, already mentally preparing himself for the verbal war he and Bruce were going to have very, very soon. As soon as it was out of his mouth, though, Dick realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“I apologize,” Damian said flatly, all emotions wiped from his face as he transformed into robot assassin Damian, “I should have known I was not welcome.”

Maybe it was just his tone, or the tone mixed with the phrase, which implied Dick didn’t want Damian to come to him with these things. Whatever it was that set Damian off, however, Dick was going to blame on exhaustion. Had he gotten enough sleep, this would’t be a problem.

But it’d been difficult to sleep since he’d left his kid behind.

“Damian,” Dick said, hopping up and grabbing onto Damian’s hand before he could unlock the door and escape, “Stay. You’re always welcome here, you know that.”

Assassin Damian slowly vanished as he relaxed, allowing Dick to tug him back over toward the couch.

“Want to talk about it or watch a movie?”

Damian didn’t even pause to think before he declared, “Movie,” settling himself down into the couch.

It was a system they’d discovered worked well, before. Damian found it difficult to ask for comfort, to ask someone to sit with him so he didn’t feel alone. Despite Dick’s constant reassurances, he was still afraid of being seen as weak, but when an offer of comfort was phrased as ‘watching a movie, ‘it was easier.

Talking about it meant finding a solution to the problem, but watching a movie meant Dick would just be there. They’d sit together on the couch, maybe Damian even curled up against him, depending on how anxious he was feeling. The more anxious, the less likely he’d be to initiate physical contact. But that was okay. Dick let Damian lead.

Dick threw in the first movie from his ‘Damian safe’ pile, which happened to be _Madagascar._ Of course, the kid scoffed at the ‘infantile’ movie once the menu screen popped up, but he didn’t protest it. Dick knew he secretly loved the ‘move it’ song.

Damian started the movie out sitting stiffly next to Dick, his hands folded in a proper fashion, back straight and feet appropriately…. dangling off the couch. Because for as old as Damian liked the act, he was still 11 and short. Dick sat next to him, his arm on the couch behind him, as he fought to keep himself awake.

Eventually, about half an hour in, Damian drew his socked feet up onto the couch and scooted back, allowing his head to touch Dick’s arm. Then, another twenty minutes later, he abruptly leaned sideways, right into Dick’s side with a quiet huff.

That was Dick’s cue, so he wrapped his arm around the little runt and pretended like it wasn’t a big deal. Like Damian _wasn’t_ a cat that spent most its day hiding and only came out for pets once in a blue moon. Who had decided Dick was the chosen one, worthy of his presence.

“Father said,” Damian whispered, as the end credits started to roll, “that I am too reckless to be Robin.”

“Hmm,” Dick hummed, shifting a little and pulling Damian closer in such a way that made it _seem_ like he was only doing it to be more comfortable himself, “why would he think that?”

“I disobeyed him,” Damian said miserably, “he told me to wait for him, but I went in after Toyman myself.”

“Was it reckless?” Dick asked gently, turning the volume down on the credits so he could hear his little brother better.

“No,” Damian said defiantly, sitting up a little, allowing the anger he clearly still felt to show, “He was going to hurt that child. I had to save her, and Father would not have arrived in time.”

Dick had to stifle a laugh, because that was _such_ a Robin thing to do. He was certain each and every one of them had pulled stunts like that many, many times. Part of being Bruce’s _partner,_ and not his sidekick meant sometimes using their own judgement and disobeying direct orders. If anything, Bruce would have _grounded_ him for such a rebellion. Not fired.

“And he fired you over that?”

Nodding, Damian said, “Took away the suit and said Robin was grounded.”

“Grounded?” Dick parroted, just to have Damian nod against him.

“I told him he couldn’t because he needed Robin, but he said he didn’t.”

“Oh, kiddo.”

Damian scrubbed at his eyes and shifted again, before saying, “Can I stay here?”

“Bud,” Dick said slowly resting his cheek down in Damian’s hair, “I don’t think your dad will be too keen on allowing that. He wants you with him.”

“No he doesn’t. He said he doesn’t need me.”

And Dick was not rested enough for this.

Because how does one convince a child. A precious, hurting little child, who’s spent his entire life being told he was a weapon. Being reminded that his worth as a human is contingent entirely upon his skills as a warrior. That without the ability to maim any opponent he faces, he is entirely useless?

How does one convince that child that he is loved and wanted, no matter how ‘useful’ he is? No matter what his skills were?

The short answer was very slowly.

Dick had no doubt that Bruce _loved_ Damian. That he wanted him around. But as is his typical fashion, he’d managed to talk right over Damian and not actually see his son for who he was. Or to even notice what his insecurities and damaging thought processes were.

And like every other time Bruce dropped the ball, Dick was there to clean it up and set it all straight.

He was not rested enough for this.

“Dames, you know that’s not what he meant.”

“It is,” he said petulantly, burrowing himself further back into the couch, his bony little elbow digging into Dick’s side as he did, “It doesn’t matter.”

“Damian-”

“No,” Damian shouted, pushing Dick’s arms off him as he sat up, “It’s not about that. It’s not- He’s not-”

“Okay,” Dick said, holding his hands up and backing off, letting Damian have that space, “Damian. If it’s not that, tell me what’s really going on, then.”

When Damian didn’t respond except to cross his arms and turn away, Dick sighed and just stared down at his little brother. At his little brother who had been more of a son to him than a brother. A best friend and incredible partner.

“Come on, bud, you can talk to me.”

“I-” Damian started, then paused to turn away. To hide his face as it twisted in that peculiar way when he _really_ started talking. When he got down to the crux of his issue. “You left.”

“Yes,” Dick said slowly, putting a hand on Damian’s back, “Because Bruce is back.”

“So you have to leave?”

“We went over this,” he said, because they _had._ He thought they’d smoothed this over and it was all good. This was what Damian _wanted._ He _wanted_ to be Bruce’s Robin. To get to know his father. “I’m not needed in Gotham anymore.”

“Yes you are.”

“Damian…”

“If Father doesn’t need Robin,” Damian said hurriedly, a petulant little pout on his face, showing off his true age, “then Robin can just work with you.”

“I’m not Batman anymore, kiddo.”

“ _So?_ ” Damian demanded, “I’m not Father’s partner. I’m _your_ partner.”

“It’s Batman and Robin, not Nightwing and Robin.”

“Well then, I can be Flamebird!”

“Damian.”

“Like in the story. I can get a new uniform and we can patrol together again. Just like it should be. You don’t have to come back to Gotham, I can stay here. It’ll be-”

“Damian,” Dick said forcefully, allowing his tone to bite a little to trigger that ‘Obey, Robin,’ instinct they’d all been trained to heed.

And that did it. Damian’s mouth snapped shut and he stilled, looking sheepishly up at Dick, like he’d been caught misbehaving. Like he’d been caught spilling his guts and sharing his deepest thoughts and feelings. Sharing all his anxieties.

It made Dick feel like the lowest human on the face of the planet, because that’s exactly what he’d been doing. And Dick made it seem like a bad thing. With just a simple utterance of his name.

“I love you, kiddo,” he said, running his hand up and down Damian’s back, trying to be reassuring, “If this is what you _really_ want, we can figure it out and make it work, but I don’t want you tossing your dad off so easily. He’s your dad and he loves you, too.”

“But we’re the best,” he whispered, scraping his hand across his eyes. Looking away so Dick couldn’t see.

“We are. And you and him can be great too,” Dick said, wrapping both arms around Damian and pulling him in tight, “If you just give it more time.”

After a moment, Damian nodded and croaked out, very softly, “I miss you. You never even call.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into Damian’s hair, “I miss you, too. Tell you what, let me call into work and then we can go see a movie and get lunch.”

When all Damian did was sniff, Dick continued, “and maybe some ice cream. We’ll go to the zoo, even, if you want. Or the aquarium. All day, just me and you. Then you can stay the night and we’ll figure all this out tomorrow.”

Damian snuggled his face into Dick’s shirt and stayed there for several long minutes.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he sat back up and said, without a single trace of the tears Dick _knew_ he was just shedding, “The art museum. There is a new exhibit done by a family of artists from the early 1900s. There are some pieces associated with the Dada and Surrealist movements I wish to see.”

“Cool,” was all Dick could say, because he had no idea what that meant, “Let me go make a call and then we’ll go, okay?”

Ruffling Damian’s hair, Dick made his way to the bedroom, where he decided he needed to call Bruce. Or text him. Probably text him, just to let him know where Damian was. He’d call later when Damian wasn’t within earshot, because they had a _lot_ to talk about.

For now, though. Today. He could spend the day with his favorite little kid and push all their troubles and worries off until tomorrow. That’s what tomorrows were for, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm for sure doing 5 of the 7 prompts this week. I hope you all enjoy! Thanks for reading, and let me know what you thought!
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](https://cdelphiki.tumblr.com)


	2. Paparazzi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is outraged by what one of the local gossip magazines has cooked up about the two of them. Dick just finds it hilarious.

“This is slander,” Damian shouted, right in the middle of the checkout line. Making even Dick cringe just a little from the shrillness of his voice. 

It was past midnight, and despite the darkness of night, the stillness of the late hour pressing a hushed atmosphere in the Walmart they’d wandered into, Damian continued to be as loud as humanly possible. 

Perhaps that’s what happens when nocturnal children are forced to take a night off. They don’t get how to actually act in public at night.

“Inside voice, kiddo,” Dick hummed, not looking up from the word puzzle he was doing on his phone. Anything to keep himself entertained. “Hey, what’s an eight letter word for theft? Third letter is an ‘R’” 

“What?” Damian said, then scowled, demanding, “Why are you not outraged by this? They are soiling your good name and spreading false rumors.”

“Mmm, no. That’s too many letters,” Dick said, smirking at how Damian’s scowl turned into a glower at the comment. “What is slander?”

Dick didn’t have the chance to glance at the celebrity gossip rags sitting on the shelf next to him before one was shoved right in his face, much too close for him to read. 

All he could see was an image of himself walking, one arm around Damian as the kid was mid-sentence, clearly passionate about whatever he was saying. Dick knew Damian had been talking about the movie they’d just watched. A war dramatization. Damian had been explaining every _single_ detail that was wrong. Right down to the buttons on the coats, which ‘ _would have been copper, not plastic, Grayson. It’s basic knowledge._ ’

Without context, though, and without knowing Damian, the picture just made it seem like he was looking up at Dick in admiration. Actually, it was an awesome picture and Dick wondered how difficult it would be to get his hands on a clean copy. 

Surely he’d be able to buy the picture off the _Inquisitor_ , right? Or hack into their servers and just take a copy? How illegal _was_ that, anyway? It’s not like he would sell it. Just frame it and put it in his living room.

“Grayson,” Damian snarled, snapping Dick back to reality. That was when Dick finally read the headline. ‘ _Is Damian really Bruce’s grandson? Insider spills on Grayson’s secret teenage scandal.’_

“Oh my God,” Dick said, grinning wide as he started laughing, loud and hard. “I was 13,” he eventually said, wiping the tears fro his eyes. His outburst drew more attention to them than Damian’s, and Dick wasn’t even sorry.

“This is not funny.”

“It’s kind of funny,” Dick said, tossing the magazine on the belt with the various art supplies and junk food they’d come to get in the first place. Damian just _had to have_ some titanium white paint for the portrait he was working on, and with it being nearly 1, only Walmart was open. 

Which was cool with Dick. Walmart had Cheetos. The Manor did not.

“Don’t support them,” Damian exclaimed, snatching the magazine up to put back. 

Dick just smiled and said, “excuse me,” to the woman behind them in line so he could grab the rest of the magazines from the rack. 

Letting out a horrified sound, Damian shouted, “Grayson!”

“Damian, kiddo, no one believes these rags. Don’t worry.”

“But they’re suggesting-”

“And no one will believe it,” he said, setting a hand on Damian’s head and turning him forward, pushing him in that direction, so the person behind them could start loading her groceries onto the belt, “I mean, come on, kid, you’re the spitting image of your dad and since I’m quite famously adopted, it makes _no sense_ that you could be mine instead of Bruce’s, okay? You just gotta learn to ignore these things.”

“Then why are you purchasing six copies?”

“Want to show everyone,” he said absently, putting the divider down behind his giant bag of Cheetos and four bags of gummy worms. Alfred was going to kill him if he found out. “And it’s a good photo. You look happy.”

“I was happy,” Damian said petulantly, crossing his arms. Acting as if this were somehow a point for _him_ and not Dick. 

Dick just grinned and pulled Damian in, planting a quick kiss in his hair before he was forced to let go, due to Damian’s two finger jab straight into his kidney. 

“Hi,” Dick said to the cashier when she greeted them, trying his best to stand up straight and not whine at the pain Damian had just inflicted, but also not keep laughing at how hilarious it all was. Because Damian was standing by the bags, arms crossed, an _adorable_ little pout on his face.

“Find everything you need,” the girl asked, smiling at their antics, Dick assumed.

“Sure did!”

“Tt.” 

“Let’s go, kiddo,” he said, after he paid. Dick took the bags and tried to hand Damian his, the one with the random paint brushes and tubes of paint they didn’t need, but the little punk spun on his heels and stalked off, toward the store exit. “Let’s go get some milkshakes.”

Damian ignored him, of course, but did eventually ask, “Where would we get milkshakes at this hour?” just as they reached the car and Dick was tossing their bags into the back seat.

“Drive thru, duh. Sonic is still open, pretty sure.”

“Tt.” Damian slipped into the passenger seat and waited for Dick to get in, then said, “I want a McFlurry. Reece’s cup. We have to go to the McDonald’s on Montgomery for that.”

Dick smiled to himself, letting the car fall into silence, all the way to McDonald’s. He ordered two Reece’s McFlurries at the drive thru and parked so he could eat his without being pulled over for ‘distracted driving.’ Because apparently the police considered using both hands to eat ice cream _dangerous_ and _stupid._ That had not been a fun ticket to explain to Bruce when he was 16. 

He had hoped the ice cream would cheer Damian up, but no matter how much of it they ate, Damian just seemed to get more and more agitated as he clearly stewed in his anger about the gossip magazine.

“You’ve got to just laugh at this kind of stuff, D,” Dick eventually said, once they were about half way through their ice cream, “It comes with the territory.”

Damian frowned, staring down at the cup in his hands. “It does not bother you at all?”

“This one? Nah. They’ve been calling me… promiscuous since I was 15. Just the result of being good looking and Bruce’s kid. I’m over it.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Damian pouted, setting his ice cream down in the cup holder between them so he could cross his arms. 

“No, it doesn’t,” Dick said softly, turning to face Damian, “but this time they’re accusing me of being the dad of a wonderful kid. I can’t find it in me to be insulted.”

And _that_ made Damian’s lip twitch as he looked away. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Dick finished off the last of his ice cream and tossed the empty cup into his trash bag on the backseat, then dug out a pack of his gummy words to eat. “Besides, I looked pretty hot in that picture, don’t you think?”

“Shut up, Grayson.”

“Yeah, the lighting was great. And my hair was that perfect level of messy, where it looks like I _tried_ to make it look that good without being-”

“Imbecile. You look like a zombie that hadn’t slept in four days or showered in ten.”

“You sure you aren’t thinking about how you looked?”

“Tt.” Damian picked his ice cream back up and took another bite, then abruptly said, “Arrogate.”

“What?”

“Eight letter word for theft. Arrogate.”

“Oh,” Dick exclaimed, fishing his phone out of his back pocket to check. When the word was accepted, he reached over and ruffled Damian’s hair. “You’re the best.”

“I know. You’d be lucky to have a son like me.” 

Grinning, Dick dragged Damian over for a quick hug, trying his best to avoid injury doing so. “Son or not, I am pretty lucky to have you, aren’t I?”

All Damian did was smile. The entire way back to the manor.


	3. Fear Gas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian is exposed to Fear Toxin for the first time, and Dick learns quite a bit about Damian's actual fears.

Damian didn’t scream.

That was the first thing Dick noticed. Aside from his own internal panic of _shit shit shit the kid’s been shot,_ of course. Even though it was just with a dart of fear toxin and not like, an actual bullet, it still got Dick’s heart racing just a little quicker. 

But Damian wasn’t screaming. Dick had seen each of the other kids on fear toxin, as well as hundreds of random civilians. There was always screaming. Crying, shouting, screaming. And yet, Damian was doing none of that. 

Keeping the kid in his peripherals, Dick finished taking out Scarecrow and tied him up nice and pretty for the GCPD. It was actually fairly easy, since he, too, was unnerved by Robin’s lack of screaming. The tiny little 10-year-old’s apparent lack of fear. 

“Robin?” Dick asked as he slowly approached. It was clear Damian was hallucinating. At least, Dick thought it was. Since Damian had quit fighting and was standing there, stiffly. He just wasn’t _scared._

“Hey, kiddo,” he said, kneeling down in front of Damian as he did a visual scan of the boy, his hands hovering an inch or so from Damian’s body, afraid to touch him and risk setting him off, “can you hear me?”

In response, all Damian did was take in a deep breath and let it out slowly, through his nose. A move Dick recognized as meant to calm one down. To slow a heart rate and keep panic at bay. 

So perhaps Damian was scared. Did he know what was happening then? And was responding accordingly? Staying calm because he knew none of what he was seeing was real?

Dick had no idea. 

“Hey,” he said gently as he loaded a clean syringe up with a full dose of the antitoxin, “I’m going to give you some medicine that will make it stop, okay, kid? Can you hear me?”

Damian didn’t respond, so Dick very carefully grasped onto Damian’s upper arm, testing the waters to see how violent a reaction he’d have to touch. Considering normal Damian was quick to kick or punch, or as Tim had discovered the one time he ‘accidentally’ ruffled Damian’s hair, bite, Dick was preparing himself to defend against a ruthless, violent attack.

Instead, Damian gasped, almost inaudibly, as he shut his eyes tight.

“It’s okay, D,” he said as he gripped a little tighter, allowing him to stab the syringe right into Damian’s thigh. Straight through his uniform.

The boy didn’t even flinch.

But then Damian said, with an _almost_ unnoticeable shake to his voice, “I’m sorry.” If one didn’t know Damian, it would have gone unnoticed. But Dick _did_ know Damian. He’d been the primary caretaker…. Well that was probably actually Alfred. He was the one who got them to sleep and eat and such. 

He’d been the primary _emotional_ caregiver to Damian for nearly six months. Ever since Bruce died. 

“What for?” he asked in as soothing a tone as the Batman gravel would allow, “You’re okay, you did nothing wrong.”

While he let the antitoxin run its course, Dick pulled out his batphone to let Gordon know Scarecrow was ready for pick up. The entire time, he kept his hand on Damian’s arm, making sure he stayed put. 

The boy didn’t move. He didn’t try to pull away, even as his body began shaking, ever so slightly.

“Robin?” Dick said, pocketing his phone and looking back over at the boy. 

“ _Please,_ ” Damian whispered.

The hint of desperation in Damian’s voice was enough to make Dick drop the Batman voice all together. “Please what, bud?” 

“I’m sorry. Grayson- I- I’m-”

“Shhhhh,” Dick said, running his free hand up and down Damian’s arm, trying his best to sooth the panic he could see rising in the boy. Why wasn’t the antitoxin working? It should only take a couple minutes, and Damian only seemed to be getting worse. 

“Its okay. You’re okay,” Dick started to repeat, as he stood, “Come on, we need to get you home and synthesize a new antitoxin.”

“Grayson, _please,_ ” Damian choked out, in a painful sounding aborted sob. The poor kid was struggling not to cry, now, and that only seemed to make it all worse. 

Dick wanted nothing more than for Damian to go back to not being scared. 

Was he ever not scared? Or had the fear just become so intense that he could no longer hide it?

He didn’t even want to think about the implications of a 10-year-old being able to hide his fear so well, he appeared to have none while on fear toxin.

“What is it?” he asked softly, dropping back down to a crouch so he could brush his fingers across Damian’s cheek before checking his pulse.

“I apologize, I-”

His pulse was racing. At least 150bpm. “You’re okay kiddo, you’re okay. It’s okay.”

Just as a tear escaped out of Damian’s domino and down his cheek, Damian tensed up. He quickly swiped it away as his entire body went completely rigid, all trace of emotion vanished from his face. “It was a mistake,” he said stiffly, “I can be better. I promise. I will. _Please_.”

Dick let go abruptly, just so he could pull Damian in close, squishing his tense little body right into his chest. Because that’s what this kid needed right now. A hug. 

A hug and probably a lifetime’s worth of therapy. But they could all use that, so Dick wasn’t really one to talk there. 

“Don’t send me back,” Damian whispered, both unbothered and unnoticing of his new position being crushed in Dick’s arms. 

“I would never,” Dick whispered back, wishing beyond hope that his words would _penetrate_ whatever hallucination Damian was stuck in. 

When Dick was tripping on fear gas, he’d watch his parents fall to their deaths. Then watch Bruce. Then Jason. And Tim. And Alfred. Babs and Wally. And probably Damian, now, too. 

Tim, as far as Dick could tell, usually saw everyone he loved die. Everyone important in his life turn their backs on him and leave him all alone. 

Bruce had usually witnessed each of them dying. Collapsed down onto the ground and cried for each of his children. 

_Damian,_ though. Damian apparently saw himself getting kicked out by Dick and sent back to the League of Assassins. He tensed up and waited for the blows to come, for Dick, or whoever Damian was seeing, to take their disappointment in him out on him physically.

His favorite little kid was so used to being hit that he didn’t even _try_ to fight it. The same kid that fought everything. That screamed and bit and stabbed for a simple hair ruffle. For looking at him the wrong way. 

“Oh, Damian,” he whispered, blinking back the tears that had started to well in his eyes. Crying right now would not be good. He needed to get them home. And with the sound of sirens growing closer, he needed to get them out of there _soon._

Dick stood, only letting go of his grip on Damian enough to scoop him up into his arms and carry him, bridal style, to the Batmobile. He wrapped his cape around the boy tightly, as if the trembling mess of a child in his arms could be comforted by it. 

Damian didn’t speak again. In fact, he seemed to completely leave his body. His heart-rate slowed down as his breathing became steady. The trembling stopped, and he just lay there, in Dick’s arms, completely limp as Dick continued walking them to the Batmobile.

With a deep breath, Dick tried to get the hand that was clamping down on his heart and making his entire chest seize to let up. There was nothing he could do about any of this until he got them home and made a new antitoxin. Until the fear toxin was out of Damian’s body, nothing he said or did would fix anything. 

Once he reached the Batmobile, he opened the passenger door and carefully set Damian down on the seat, detaching his cape as he did so he could leave it wrapped around Damian. “I love you,” he whispered, as he pushed back Damian’s hair and planted a kiss on his forehead, “We’ll fix this, okay? Just hang in there, bud.”

_\- - -_

It took far too long to synthesize a new antitoxin. Three hours. And that was with him and Alfred both working tirelessly on it. 

_Three_ hours Damian was trapped in the hellscape that was his mind. 

After twenty minutes, Alfred had sedated him. Dick knew being sedated while on fear gas or toxin didn’t end the nightmares, but it would prevent Damian from hurting himself or someone else in his hallucinations.

Not that he had done anything more than tremble. 

Dick hated to see him disassociate. It _killed_ him to see. Because the kid was 10. He was 10 and strong and very capable. He could defend himself against anything, Dick knew. 

Had his life really been so terrible that the only option he had when faced with his greatest nightmares was to just disconnect himself from reality? To pretend nothing was happening and go off somewhere else?

What horrors had he experienced, that this was his only option? That not even _he_ could escape them?

_Grayson, please._

And… had he been begging Dick not to hurt him? Or begging him to help him?

Once the antitoxin was finished and they’d given him two doses of it, Dick found himself sitting at Damian’s bedside. He held onto one of Damian’s hands, while his other gently traced up and down his arm, trying his best to be soothing and comforting, in the way Damian would never allow while conscious. 

That’s how Alfred found him when he came down to check on Damian’s vitals some time later. 

“I knew,” Dick said, laying his head down in his arm next to Damian, “that he wasn’t treated well. I _knew_ his training was bad. But Alfred-” he had to pause, because his voice broke and he had to clear his throat. 

When he looked up at Alfred, he noticed his vision was blurring, and he couldn’t even find it in him to wipe the tears away. “I didn’t know it was this bad,” he whispered, just letting himself cry right in front of everyone for once in his life, “ _God,_ Alfred, how do we fix this? No wonder he doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Master Dick,” Alfred said, rounding the bed to place a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “I believe at this point, all we can do is be there for him. Remind him of our love and be patient with him. It is not as hopeless as you might think.”

“What if he never trusts us?” Dick said, sitting up and rubbing at his face, “Never believes us?”

Alfred just pat at his shoulder and said, “If we do not give him a reason to distrust us, he will, eventually.”

“He thought I was going to hurt him,” Dick whispered, turning his attention to his little brother’s face. To the peaceful, sleeping, baby face of Damian Wayne. “Whoever he thought I was, at least. He thought-”

Alfred just squeezed his shoulder.

“How could they? Alfred, _how could they?”_ After pushing Damian’s hair back and giving him another kiss on the forehead, Dick laid his head back down, right next to Damian’s, and let himself feel all the pain Damian never indulged in himself. All the while, Alfred stood next to him, his hand still offering that comfort on his back as he cried.

\- - -

Damian woke late that morning, nearly near lunch time. Dick had carried him up to the penthouse, so he’d be in a more comfortable environment when he woke. As much as Dick knew Damian loved the bunker, he figured waking up to a warm living room would be better than waking up in a dark, steel cave.

“Grayson,” he said, his voice thick with sleep, “What happened?”

Dick, who had been sitting on the floor, his back to the couch Damian was laying on, turned and smiled at Damian. His hair was a mess and he was rubbing at his face like a normal little 10-year-old, annoyed at being woken for school so early.

“Dami, hey pal,” he said softly, grabbing the remote and muting the television he’d been watching, “How are you feeling?”

After sitting up, Damian scrunched his eyebrows at Dick, in that way he always did when trying to decide what to share with Dick.

“Honest assessment,” Dick added, softening his face to convey to Damian that he wasn’t going to be mad about anything.

“Minor headache. That is all.”

Nodding, because that was probably accurate, Dick asked, “What do you remember?”

Damian took a long minute to think, his eyes narrowed before he finally said, “Patrol… Crane. We were fighting Crane, but then…. I- I’m not sure.” He looked at Dick, then around the room, as if he were checking out the environment to compare against the memories he had. Trying to figure out how he got from one place to the other.

“You got dosed with fear toxin.”

“Ah,” Damian said, the confusion on his face completely vanishing as he nodded, “That would explain it.”

“Do you want to talk about what you saw?”

“No.” The word wasn’t sharp, but it was quick to come, and Dick knew he probably had to accept it. It didn’t mean _Dick_ wasn’t going to talk about what Damian saw. 

“Okay,” he said, pushing himself up onto the couch next to Damian, “Can I have a hug?”

“Why?” Damian asked slowly, looking over at Dick skeptically. Not with fear, though, Dick was relieved to see. Just confusion and maybe a touch of disdain. Damian really did hate physical affection, didn’t he?

“It’s been a rough night.”

“Were you injured?”

“No,” Dick said, smiling again, “But the kid I love dearly had to be sedated.”

“Tt,” Damian huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked away. But a second later, he leaned toward Dick, the only invitation to pull him in for a hug Dick was going to get. 

So Dick did, squeezing as tight as he could without Damian protesting. “I love you,” he whispered, fighting back the tears again, because _apparently_ he was a mess now, “So much, Damian. You have no idea. Don’t ever doubt that, okay?”

“Did I say something,” Damian asked slowly, not pulling away but not melting into Dick’s embrace either, “while incapacitated?”

“Not really. You were pretty quiet. I just wanted to make sure you knew.”

Damian nodded and whispered after a minute or so, “I know.”

“And you know I’d never hurt you, right? No matter what? Not as a punishment, not as training, nothing. I’ll never hurt you.”

“What did I say?” Damian demanded, shifting in Dick’s arms, turning his back a little more so his shoulder was resting against Dick’s chest.

“You didn't say anything.”

“Clearly I said something,” Damian said dryly, still wiggling in Dick’s arms until he was in a more comfortable position.

Dick had to stifle a smile at that, because not only was Damian allowing a hug, but he was basically snuggling down so Dick could just hold him. He was probably telling himself it was for Dick, but Dick knew he didn’t have that level of patience for unwanted physical affection. This was _wanted._

“What do you think you said?” Dick asked, bringing a hand up to comb through Damian’s hair. To try and tame the bed head that had developed throughout the night.

The silence stretched, even as Damian reached up and grabbed Dick’s hand, pulling it away from his hair and back down around himself.

When Damian continued to stay silent, Dick asked, “Is this a fear you have, Damian?”

“No.”

And there was that word again. That _lie._ Because this time, it was said with less conviction. With hesitancy. And Dick knew that this time, if he just stayed quiet, Damian would start talking.

“I know it’s different here.”

“Good. Good,” Dick said, shifting himself on the couch, throwing one leg up on it, so he could lay back a tad more comfortably with Damian, “That’s… good.”

“I…” Damian said slowly, very softly, “I like it here.”

“I like having you here, Damian. I _love_ having you here.”

As Dick started caressing Damian’s arm, just allowing the silence to envelop them, he realized. Damian had never mentioned _liking_ being there. He’d never said anything about his preference of where he lived. 

Like he didn’t want to get his hopes up. Didn’t want to admit to someone he even _had_ a preference. It was always just ‘acceptable,’ the plans they made. Moving to the penthouse. Dick being his guardian and Batman. Fighting crime and being homeschooled. 

_‘Don’t send me back,’_ he had begged.

“And no matter what you do,” Dick said, squashing down all the emotions that bubbled up at that, “I’ll never make you leave, either. This is your home, Damian, and you’re always welcome in it.”

Damian nodded and turned around so his face was half hidden in Dick’s shirt, so Dick let him. He pulled the blanket down from the back of the couch and over them as he pretended not to notice Damian cry his silent cry. 

Carefully, Dick reached down to the floor for the remote and unmuted the television, allowing the sound of the Nature Channel take over the room, and he spent the rest of the morning laying there with his little brother. Just holding him and reminding him he was loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a busy couple of days, so I'm (obviously) behind. BUT we got a pretty nasty storm last night (which I stupidly went out in :D but didn't die so obviously it was fine.) and I GOT A SNOWDAY OFF WORK TODAY! Woo. So I'm working catching up. One down, two to go.


End file.
